Life Is Hard
by torchie8
Summary: Various drabbles and one-shots starring my ingame characters. Set during the WotLK era, but there may be exceptions. Contains lots and lots of OCs, gore and violence in some chapters, humor in others, possible romance too (certified 100% smut-free unless people want it!) Especially suitable for Horde fans! Please rate and review, it helps a lot! :) And most importantly, enjoy.
1. Raizu's Lesson

Wind blew fiercely throughout the majestic city of Orgrimmar. Doras, master of the wind riders, was worried about the huge zeppelin stationed at the Skytower; he had been told a lot about the cursed goblin contraption, especially about their tendency to blow up like almost every other engineering product of the little green creatures. The helium tank swayed to the side, threatening to collide with the roof of the tower, only to be stopped halfway there by the safety ropes. Doras grunted nervously. His job was to tend to the wind riders, not get killed by some flying ship.

People on the streets held their hats to their heads if they had one, and continuously kept pulling their hair out of their faces if they didn't. Durotar had always been really windy.

_Maybe a lil' more than necessary_, a troll in the Valley of Wisdom thought. He was a bit concerned about the Midsummer flame setting something on fire, or one of his torches escaping his grasp. Even though fire had been his specialty as a shaman, the property damage would be no joke.

Reaching out to commune with the spirit of wind, his results were rather limited; at least he managed to stop the flame from leaving the giant bonfire. Better than nothing.

"Knock it off, Raizu," an orc sitting on a nearby bench growled impatiently, staring in the shaman's direction. "Don't tell me they call you Torchflame for nothing."

"Have a bit o' patience, mon," Raizu drawled with a smirk. "Ya ain't seen nothin' yet."

"It seems like we never will, either," said a young blood elf sitting next to the orc, who found the response funny and laughed. The elf bent over to give his pet wolf, Hunger, a pat on the back.

"Ah, jus' shut it, Sileras. I be workin' as fas' as I can. This ain't easy."

"You've been 'working' for the last five minutes straight, Raizu! We haven't seen a single torch hit the air since your little problem," Sileras complained, smiling at the thought of a juggler losing his torches one by one.

"Ya haven't missed much, lad," Raizu retorted. "There be lots o' better jugglers out 'ere. But, since ya probably wanna see me... here ya go!" And with these words, he carefully flung a torch into the air and caught it behind his back. He liked the added challenge of the wind, it made things more interesting. And he wanted to make it a bit of a show to amuse his friends.

Soon, he began to add more torches until there were a total of seven, constantly passing through his quick hands only to be thrown up again, spinning wildly to the orc's applause. Sileras was too busy restraining Hunger from attempting to catch a torch, and let Raizu know with an apologetic look. The troll was concentrating too hard on the torches to notice, however, and before the hunter could warn him, he tripped over the wolf.

He let out a short yelp of surprise mixed with a bit of fear before hitting the ground with a loud thud. Hunger howled in pain, having received a hard kick from the falling shaman, and began snarling at him angrily while stepping back closer to his master. Raizu scratched the spot on his head where he'd hit the pavement and stumbled off the ground.

"Spirits bloody damn it!" he shouted in frustration, his amazing juggling number having turned into a huge embarassment. The orc almost fell off the bench laughing, while Sileras quickly calmed Hunger down and healed the wolf's wound. Raizu kneeled to pick up all of the torches scattered around, but one was missing.

"Now this be a real mystery," he mumbled, scratching his head once again.

"Don't tell me you lost another one," the orc spat out inbetween his bursts of laughter. Raizu gave him a scolding look, after which he went quiet but kept grinning.

"Any o' ya two seen a torch go really far off?" the troll asked. Sileras pointed somewhere near the bonfire, earning himself a thankful nod.

Raizu went closer to see if the torch had landed there, but he didn't see anything lying on the ground besides empty bags of ingredients for making smorcs. Sighing, he was ready to turn back to his friends until he saw something very unusual.

A short and slim blood elf woman carefully checking her surroundings. She definitely wasn't a thief, Raizu noted, or she would be more subtle. She was clad in a red and white shirt with golden ornaments and a pair of dark brown skin-tight leather pants. Upon further inspection, however, the shaman noticed her holding something that almost definitely wasn't hers; a lit wooden torch.

"Wow," he breathed out, followed by Sileras letting out a surprised whistle and a grunt from the impressed orc. "Do ya two see dat? She be holdin' my torch."

"Why do you suppose she'd want a pitch soaked burning piece of wood that isn't even hers to begin with?" Sileras asked somewhat confusedly. "She does look rather... attractive, however..."

"Fifty silver for the one who talks to her," the orc declared proudly and rolled a couple silver coins around in his hand.

"I'm taken," Sileras said immediately, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

"Right, and it's your torch she's holdin'," the orc followed. "She's yours, Torchflame. What are you going to do?" Raizu snapped his head as if he wanted to chase away a fly.

"She be a blood elf, mon! She ain't my type!" he exclaimed in disbelief. There was no way this could work... right?

"Oh, so that is the problem," the orc said with a grin. "Ask Sileras, I'm sure he's... experienced."

"Be subtle," the elf whispered. "Go slowly on her, gently, too. Don't rush anything. Be prepared to talk a lot."

"Even if I managed ta impress her, we couldn't drag it furtha'," Raizu argued, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. It took all of his willpower to stop his cheeks from turning red.

"You'd be surprised," Sileras winked. "Just go already, I'll raise the bet to a gold."

"Bastard."

Raizu looked around, accepting that there really was no way out of this. And he wanted his torch back. She was playing around with it, even throwing it up carefully and quickly catching it again. She be new to this, he thought. He walked up to the fire somewhat awkwardly before he realized he had no idea what to say. An unusual situation for him.

"Hey there," he said, standing behind her. She let out a surprised yelp and failed to catch the torch. She blushed in embarassment and hastily picked it up before turning to face the tall troll.

"Good day to you, sir," she said nervously, her eyes scanning him for a potential threat. She noticed his Festival attire, and eased up a bit when she saw the ruby pendant that all Flamekeepers wore.

"Where'd ya find dat torch, noble lady?" he asked as gently as he could, smiling. She blushed even more and said nothing.

"'S alright," he added when she stayed silent. "Don't worry, it be mine. Ya can return it ta me now."

She handed him the torch with a thankful look in her sparkling eyes. Raizu couldn't help it but stare for a second, taken aback by her beauty. "Can I help ya wit' anythin'?" he said after a moment too brief for his eyes.

"Sir, I'd... I'd love to try and become a t... torch juggler," she almost whispered shyly.

"That ain't no problem," he replied with an understanding smile. "Don't ya worry, I ain't gonna bite."

"So it's... possible? Sir?" She gazed at him, hoping he'd say yes.

"We can start right now if ya want," he offered before giving her a torch. "Name's Raizu Torchflame, an' I be very pleased ta meet ya."

"It's an honor, sir."

"Jus' call me Raizu for a start, if ya will." He stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. "Now, missy, you'll wanna know that bein' a good juggler goes way beyon' tossin' wood around. Dere be a more spiritual side to it too. Concentration an' discipline be necessary, along wit' a bit o' luck. Ya up to da challenge?"

"Yes, s... Raizu," she corrected herself and added a nod to make it more believable.

"Dat's what I wanted ta hear. Now, grab this torch here. Ya must have a firm hold ta throw 'em; examine da torch. Feel it in ya hand, every one of its curves, da weight. Ya need good material ta do this well."

"Got it," she said after a while.

"Good. Now for da next part..."

"Do you see that?" the orc said to Sileras, leaning away from the bench they were still sitting on so he could see the troll better. The elf joined the orc, observing the situation for a few seconds before letting out a loud sigh and slapping his palm onto his face.

"Oh, by the Sunwell... Alarik... why? Why is he doing that?" he mumbled after a while. The orc, Alarik, shook his head in disbelief, having lost all hope for his friend.

"I don't even..." he began, but never finished. Even Hunger seemed baffled at the sight of the beautiful elf girl awkwardly dropping torches, and didn't show any sign of the urge to catch them. "By the ancestors... is this troll ever going to get laid?"

He threw a few silver at a passing Festival brew vendor, who handed him two mugs full of the delicious liquid.

"No, I don't think so," Sileras said, accepting the drink. "Thanks."

"We give him a chance to hook up with a girl," Alarik continued. "Then, this happens."

"Indeed. I had to lie about having a significant other so he could get a shot at it. And get a shot he did." He took a sip of the brew, shivering slightly as the liquid fire made its way down his throat. "Remind me to never let him near women again."

"If he minds his own business and works in public, he can find someone else," Alarik spat out. "But seeing this, I don't think he deserves it at all."

"Right," Sileras replied. "Can you hold my bag open so I can pull out some meat for my furry friend?"

They were still sitting there two hours later with a sated, sleeping Hunger lying at Sileras' feet. Raizu had finished the elf's lesson and was walking towards them while juggling the last three lit torches.

"You blew it, Raizu," Alarik stated matter-of-factly. The shaman finished by throwing all three torches at once and catching them with one hand, a wide grin spread across his face.

"Wat'd I do wrong now, mon?"

"How can you even ask that?" Sileras growled. "You've just turned away the most beautiful single woman we've ever seen. Instead, you've given her a bloody juggling lesson!" He gulped down the rest of his brew, reminding himself to watch the alcohol.

"It ain't that bad," Raizu smirked. "I told ya she wasn't my type."

"But blood elven women don't even care!" Sileras shouted with Alarik nodding after almost every word.

"He's right," the orc said before realizing his mistake and felt blood surging up his cheeks. "I... nevermind. And I'm not giving you my fifty silver."

Sileras joined, "Me neither."

Raizu laughed and pulled out his suddenly very large sack of coins, letting it fall between them with a loud noise. Alarik looked inside and his jaw dropped. That must have been over a thousand gold!

The troll let out another laugh.

"Ya think I'll need 'em, boy?"


	2. A Sea of Misfortune

Sileras had been unlucky. Very, very unlucky.

His wealth, if it could have ever been called that at all, had disappeared days ago. The few fish he'd managed to catch had barely kept him fed for two days, and he had spent his last few silver for a wind rider to Ashenvale. There, he'd hoped to join the Ashenvale Hunt and earn himself some gold to keep going; however, just like with everything else in his life, there had to be a twist.

The hunter was now the hunted. Literally.

"This should be enough to fend the beasts off for a while," he said to Hunger, with his usual melodic tone of a blood elf, though a trained ear would have been able to hear a slight note of nervosity. And nervous he was. The land of the blasted night elves must have been enchanted by some bloody druid spell, because there was no way enough prey could survive to feed all the predators that had already tried to eat the lone adventurer. He would have been dead if it wasn't for the campfire, which he'd just fed the last few bits of wood he had. The beasts took away his privilege to sleep, for he had to chase them away every few hours, he couldn't properly keep up his campfire because he was too far away from any decent source of wood, and he couldn't fish up anything because the river was beset by some ugly mud creatures. The terrible heat of the arid Barrens had been child's play compared to this, where the only living things that didn't seem to want to kill him were the trees.

He felt a familiar deep sound shake up his empty stomach, and later a similar, quieter one from Hunger. The wolf's name suddenly seemed even more fitting.

"Seems like you're starving too, my friend," he said with a sad smile when he realized they would stay that way for a while. Hunger raised his head. He understood his master well enough. Sileras couldn't help it but stare into the wolf's yellow eyes, finding nothing but hope and before he knew it, Hunger was giving him The Look.

"Damn it, you're making me want to burst into tears," he whispered. One of his shaking hands found its way into his bag and pulled out the last two sagefish. Hunger snatched the fish away from the elf's hand and waited for a while, as if he thought it had been too easy. Then his natural instinct took over, and he bit off the fish's tail.

"Savor it, it may be your last," Sileras said with a gulp, impaling his fish on a sharp stick and placing it directly above the campfire. The delightful scent of roast fish soon filled the air, and Sileras caught himself sniffing it eagerly, mouth watering. Hunger had already finished his and was again giving the elf a wistful stare.

"You heard me," Sileras growled, the sheer slowness of the roasting almost driving him mad. "No more for you. I have to eat too." His mind shifted to an image of Raizu drinking mug after mug of the finest ale, occasionally stopping only to laugh at his friend's bad luck. His face twisted in disgust, and he didn't even want to know what Alarik would say.

Suddenly, Hunger started barking at the campfire. _Is something wrong?_ Sileras thought before taking a closer look. His heart skipped a beat and his face went pale when he realized that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts and the fish had been set ablaze by the bright flame.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he shouted, desperately waving the stick in the air to put the fire out. He succeeded, but his last source of food was gone. "Well, one doesn't simply choose what to eat in this sort of situation." He took a generous bite of the ruined fish, spitting out a large burnt scale. It tasted horrible and it wouldn't keep him sated for long, but he had no choice in the matter and it was his own fault in the first place. Hunger lay down, slowly flapping his tail to one side and then the other, showing no interest in the pitch black piece of meat.

Sileras wasn't hurt physically. He had almost starved to death already, and he lost all his gold in an unfortunate encounter with some sneaky night elf, but he didn't care about either. It was his pride that had been destroyed. Just a couple years back, he would never think he'd ever stoop this low. Yet he still did, and he only had one chance to make it right.

Hunger let out a long, sad howl.

"Now, now, let's not get too gloomy," the elf said, straightening his back to regain the proud look typical for his race. No, he wasn't going to wait for a miracle until he died. He'd earn some gold and get back to a town or die trying.

"Shape up, Hunger! We aren't staying overnight. Let's go hunting." He immediately began the long and painful process of stuffing the bundle of furs he'd slept on into his bag, dusting his hands off when he was done.

"Come on, buddy, let's move out," he said and pulled out his beautifully inscribed wooden bow. A sad reminder of his only relationship. Two weeks before the wedding, his beloved fiancée had been killed by the Scourge. She was an inscriptioner, and a great one at that. The glowing symbols on the bow said, "_For Sileras with love._" He'd always shed a tear or two when he read the loving words.

Not today.

"Take point, Hunger," he commanded. Hunger barked twice, taking off like a furry rocket. Out of nowhere, a huge green spider appeared right in front of him; he stopped his gallop five metres away, snarling at the dangerous creature. Thick drops of poison dripped from its sharp mandibles and it let out a loud and unpleasant hissing sound.

"Go!" Sileras shouted and fired off a well-aimed arrow that hit the spider in its head. The creature didn't die, however; instead, it lashed out at Hunger, who was luckily no longer there. The large wolf had made a quick jump, landing on the spider's back, and was now unleashing his fury in a series of rapid bites. The spider couldn't last long, and after a few weak attempts to shake Hunger off, it died.

Even though Sileras had managed to kill the spider rather quickly, he now had to face a different problem; lack of arrows. He only had about fifty left.

"Let's not loiter around," he said, eyeing the dead spider. Its venom sac had ended up intact, and he picked it up carefully, placing it in his second bag. As disgusting as it was, it could come in handy. He was somewhat proficient in first aid, and could hopefully use it for an antidote.

It turned out soon that the first spider wasn't alone. Two creatures of the same breed blocked the path to Splintertree Post. They had probably heard the loud noises of their dying ally and raced there to help.

"Take one, Hunger," Sileras said to the silver-maned wolf, who immediately sprang into action and bit off a portion of the spider's limb. Sileras himself targeted the other spider to draw its attention and keep Hunger at least a bit safer. The creature hissed and gazed upon him with all of its eyes. Its legs began moving like a machine, and it was racing toward him at a great speed.

Wasting no time, he released the string and quickly loaded the bow again. The arrow pierced the spider's body and pinned it to the ground, leaving it defenseless. Sileras fired another arrow which hit it in the back, causing no major injury. The spider miraculously managed to pull itself up along with the arrow, which had been stuck in the soft dirt. It began to move towards Sileras again, although at a much slower pace. The elf killed it with two arrows to the head, turning towards Hunger. He was too late; the largest of the spiders was missing its head and two limbs, its wounds oozing a thick orange liquid. Hunger barked happily, having only received a scratch on his shoulder.

Sileras walked up to him and gave him a pat on the back, careful to avoid touching the injured shoulder.

"Good job, Hunger, good job."

He picked up the spiders' poison sacs and raced towards Splintertree Post. The rest of the path had been clear, except for a few fallen trees. His heart melted when he saw the familiar architecture of the orcish watchpost and the tall wooden walls. Everything had stayed the same. Almost. He saw the desperate orcess with her lost shredder operating manual; she was sitting _in_ the shredder, tearing apart a group of spiders.

Spiders!

He sprinted towards the little camp, waved his hand to show that he was friendly, and immediately began unloading his arrows into the ugly beasts, one by one. He ran out of arrows soon and unsheathed his sword, slashing at the intruders the way Alarik taught him. The guards fought fiercely and returned to their posts as soon as the last spider curled up in its dying position, lifeless.

Sileras ran over the corpses and collected the venom sacs. He'd never run out of antidote if he succeeded. When his bag was full, he ran towards the inn with a happily barking Hunger beside him. Suddenly, he was stopped by an older orc whom he'd already seen the couple of times he'd been to Splintertree.

"Greetings, hunter," the orc said. "I am Mastok Wrilehiss, one of the guard leaders here. As you have probably seen by now, we're overrun by the darned spiders. They're everywhere! They ambush our supply caravans, slaughter our guards and they still want more. I've had enough. You and your friend," he gazed at Hunger, "look up to the task; if you have any venom sacs, bring them to me and I'll reward you handsomely. You'll be performing a valuable service to the Horde not once, but twice; thin out their numbers and help the injured. You up for being useful?"

Sileras' jaw dropped. He'd barely listened to the last few sentences. The sacs weren't useless at all. He was going to have money! Food!

"I... I already have, sir," he said, pulling out all the sacs he had managed to stuff into his bag. Mastok looked very surprised, impressed, even; he gave Sileras fifty gold for his trouble. "Great job there, boy," he breathed out, but the elf didn't care and was already on his way to the wind rider master.

"I... we," he smiled at Hunger, "need transport to Orgrimmar."

A moment later, he was already flying on one of the large winged beasts, holding Hunger in his lap, and at that moment, the awesome feeling took over.

"YES!"


End file.
